


Going Down

by Sintero



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: And so are you ;D, F/M, Fingering, Gentle Sex, Oral, POV smut, Thor is a sexy beast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 00:27:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8181862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sintero/pseuds/Sintero
Summary: By some unfathomable miracle, it’s only under your hand that a god can fall.POV Smut-Thor goes down on you.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FancyKraken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyKraken/gifts).



You lick a stripe up his solid chest and marvel at the taste of sweat as it intermingles with something thick and otherworldly, something that is solely him. Thor’s sun-kissed skin trembles with anticipation beneath your touch and you find yourself floored by the fact that you have been given this gift. By some unfathomable miracle, it’s only under your hand that a god can fall.

Overwhelmed with the open invitation to touch, you place wet, nomadic kisses up the thick column of his neck and caress his broad shoulders. His teeth scrape across his bottom lip in an attempt to strangle his surprised moan. In return, you nip at his jaw in mild reproach for having been denied the joy of his full-throated pleasure. A rich laugh is your reward, the melody of which sinks heavily down to your already swollen folds. The hot ache between your thighs is starting to flavor your careful ministrations with desperation.

“Please,” you pant into the shell of his ear.

And, being the gracious god that he is, he moves to answer your whispered prayer. Though, not without first gifting you a sly grin. Once more, you are completely captivated by his handsome charm.

He eases you down onto the downy comforter and incites a hot curl of desire to flit through your stomach at the display of all of that controlled power. His biceps flex and his pectorals ripple when he repositions himself to hover over you on hands and knees. Never before have you beheld such a beautiful sight.

His golden hair hangs in damp strings, some of which twine about his forehead like a diadem. He’s a solid mountain of muscle and bone, honed by centuries of training and now offered up to you like a particularly meaty delicacy. You clutch the linens in anticipation and he smiles knowingly as he meets your half lidded gaze.

“Ah, and where should I begin upon this fine feast laid out before me?” he contemplates in a cultured, but teasing lilt. “Here perhaps?” With that, he lowers himself to press his full lips against your own. His stubble tickles your nose, but that thought is soon drowned out by the further ignition of arousal as his tongue slides against your own and steals your breath.

When he pulls away, your chest heaves so powerfully that your budding nipples brush the smattering of hair on his chest with each inhale. He hums in approval.

“Or, might my tastes run differently tonight?” he asks with affected levity. You let out a hitched gasp when, eyes still screwed tightly shut, the wet warmth of his mouth descends on your breasts and takes you unawares. Thor supports himself on one immensely strong arm in order to palm and knead your bosom with reverent care. The close-cropped beard catches and tasks against your sensitive nipples, but he quickly eases the sting with his generous lips.

You can’t help but moan brokenly when he closes the seal and sucks gently. Every stroke of his tongue takes you one step closer to tearing the sheets in your grasp, until he pulls away with one last, lingering flick. You subconsciously roll your hips upward into the space between you in a desperate bid for friction. Anything to address the wetness quickly gathering between your legs. 

His throaty laughter only compounds the growing situation.

“Tease,” you proclaim with a wavering laugh of your own.

“I take offense that you would deem my intentions a jest,” he retorts. You could get lost in that mischievous smile, you think dazedly.

Before you can recover from the balm of his honeyed voice, those work-hardened hands begin to map your body. They smooth their way across your stomach, making you squirm, then to the curves of your waist and further still until he is kneeling before you and cupping your thighs from beneath. Air is no more than a distant memory. The thought of breathing lies forgotten when you are confronted with the sight of this literal god, illuminated by no more than pale, fluorescent lighting, but resplendently golden nonetheless. His own sweat slick chest is heaving with anticipation and your eyes slowly drop down the furrow of his abdominals, along the trail of cornflower-yellow hair, and come to rest on the erection that hangs heavy and weeping between his legs, bowed slightly beneath its own weight. You lick your lips.

His groan of approval makes your stomach flutter as he studies your body in turn.

Then he is shifting between your legs with a speed that you have not yet seen from him this evening, as if he suddenly wants too badly to sustain his self-restraint.

You find your thighs pinned to your chest by one oak-tree thick arm, his head between your thighs. With one hand, he parts your sex and takes a moment to memorize the soft, pink dips and rise of your most intimate area. The scrutiny causes you to blush and wriggle in mild embarrassment, but he immediately alleviates your discomfort with a broad stroke of his sinfully talented tongue along your clitoris.

You can’t help but to clutch at his golden hair and moan encouragingly towards the ceiling.

After what seems like a lifetime of teasing, he urges your labia apart and slips one thick, calloused finger into the core of you. It slides in effortlessly and your body clenches and flutters at the intrusion. He fingers you with sure strokes, in search of your most intimate regions. “So soft,” he murmurs, voice thick in his arousal. You attempt to respond, to whisper sweet nothings or dirty little suggestions as the mood strikes you, but they all stick in your throat. His finger sweeps unerringly against your g-spot and forces your back to arch away from the sweat-soaked bed linens. Then, he dives down onto you with lips and tongue, all backed by rippling muscle.

He works his jaw against you in an effort to lap more fully, to stroke deeper. His beard rubs you nearly raw in the process, but you can’t find it in yourself to care about anything other than riding the breakers of pleasure coursing through you. You scrabble blindly at his muscular shoulders and your thighs shake in his unwavering grasp. The building crescendo calls to you. Its claws pull you unerringly closer to another small death, then pause for one breathtaking moment of possibility. Without warning, your orgasm hits like a tidal wave. Your pulse pounds so loudly in your ears that you cannot even hear the sound of your own piercing scream. Thor continues to stroke you through the last vestiges of your release until you collapse bonelessly to the bed.

Keeping your thighs pinned, he surges forward once more to take your lips in another searing kiss. That’s your clear, clean taste on his tongue. But even the lingering reminder of his talented mouth is not enough to distract you wholly from the insistent pressure of his girthy cock-head where you need it most.

End. (ah ha)


End file.
